


Cover Me In You

by Gefionne



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Embedded Images, Kylo Ren's Massive Donger, M/M, Sex Slavery, Slave!Kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 15:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18705067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne/pseuds/Gefionne
Summary: Newly made governor of his Arkanian province, Armitage Hux sets out to buy a pleasure slave for his household. He finds exactly what he wants in an imposing man of impressive size—where it counts—called Ren.





	Cover Me In You

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fabulously fun collab to work on with the irreplaceable **pangaeastarseed** [[twitter]](https://twitter.com/StarseedComic) [[tumblr]](https://pangaeastarseed.tumblr.com/), who provided six _fantastic_ illustrations for the fic. Fair warning: all of them are NSFW, so beware where you open this (on the bus, in your office, at Thanksgiving dinner, etc.)

By galactic standards Arkanis was a backwater world with little to recommend it, but Governor Brendol Hux’s only son could enjoy what power his ancestral title afforded him there. Armitage had assumed the position upon his father’s death six weeks ago and had spent most of that time cleaning house. That was more than just emptying Brendol’s dark parlors of big game hunting trophies; it involved ousting the sycophantic advisers who made up his cabinet and the lazy whores who filled his harem.

Brendol had favored shapely women with full bosoms, and he had purchased many over the course of his life, most after his wife—Armitage’s mother—had died. They formed particular little cabals within the harem and petty grudges and temporary alliances were the currency there. They had been outfitted and fed richly, but Armitage had no interest in any of them. They would be sold off and his household wouldn’t have much of harem; he didn’t need a different flavor of lover for every night of the week. However, keeping pleasure slaves was a mark of status he couldn’t avoid. He already had clever allies to bring into his circle of advisers, but he had no concubine to warm his bed and to flaunt.

The remedy was a trip off-planet to the fabled Hutt slave markets. There were distinct tiers within them, starting in the lowest and dirtiest, where they dealt in laborers, and ending in the well-kept personal and bed slaves. Armitage arranged for a private viewing at no small cost and gave his preferences to the market master: human men, his height or bigger, no specific hair or eye color, but distinctly well-endowed. Though a man of influence and demonstrable authority in his public life, Armitage had a penchant for being fucked until he was boneless by men who were ostensibly more powerful than him, save for that they did exactly as he commanded and nothing else.

He arrived mid-cycle after an overnight transit from Arkanis and was greeted by a stout Bothan dressed in sheer, colorful silks at the docking bay. She introduced herself at Leth’in, making a graceful bow and inviting him to come with her to his viewing room. There, he was met with a striking Chiss male, the market master. The Chiss showed him to an ostentatious bejeweled chair piled high with red velvet cushions. He was given chilled wine to sip as the viewing began.

The first slave presented to him was a broad-shouldered young man of maybe twenty, his dark skin oiled to glistening. He had on only a loincloth and an elaborate beaded necklace that brushed the tops of his pectorals. He was paraded in front of Armitage, displaying a long, elegant gait and high-arched feet. There was no mistaking that he was a beautiful specimen, but he was very young and Armitage craved a bed slave he wouldn’t have to spend several weeks training. Of course, any new lover would have to be taught to service him as he wanted, but this one seemed too inexperienced. Armitage waved him away.

Two more followed, one too slender and the other so muscular his veins stood out. That couldn’t be natural. Three more came after that, Armitage finding all of them wanting. He went through his first cup of wine and started in on another, patently unimpressed so far. But as the blue-black curtain was pushed aside again, a seventh slave appeared.

This one stood impressively tall—perhaps two or three inches taller than Armitage, who was not a small man—and had considerable breadth across the chest and shoulders. Transparent silks were bound around him, a laughable covering for his nipples—as if for propriety. He had a thick copper collar around his neck, a heavy chain attached to it. The lengths of fabric covering his buttocks and groin were fastened with delicate beading that barely hung on to his square hips. Dark hair fell in waves to cover his ears and the back of his neck. His eyes were a soulful brown.

Armitage was drawn immediately, and, taking his wine with him, descended the dais and approached him. The market master wasn’t far behind, and the Bith holding the slave’s chain brought it taut. The slave surveyed Armitage with curiosity, unintimidated by him. Most people weren’t—physically anyway. This slave didn’t know who he was and what office he held; he would learn deference in time, if Armitage bought him. And he was very seriously considering it. This slave was the finest he’d seen all day.

Armitage wasted no time: he took the slave by the prominent chin, turning his face this way and that. He had a strong profile, a long and straight nose. The mouth was, perhaps, a bit crookedly set, but it didn’t do him any disservice. Armitage bid him: “Open up and show me your teeth.” The slave did, baring them: clean and white, if somewhat crooked at the front. His eyes were clear and bright, too, and there was color in his face.

“Lift your arms,” Armitage told him. “Let me have a look at you.”

Armitage felt the defined musculature of his biceps and forearms, finding it more than pleasing. His hands were big, too, like the rest of him, and Armitage could already imagine having those paws pinning him down to the feather mattress as he drove deep into his ass. The prospect was delicious. He put the slave’s arms back down at his sides and got a steady gaze in response. Generally, the slaves were not permitted to speak during these negotiations, but Armitage suspected this one wanted to. He was tempted to speak to him, if just to hear his voice, and yet decided against it.

“Is he medically sound?” Armitage asked the market master.

“He’s been screened,” the Chiss replied.

Armitage shot him a dark look. “For what?”

“Anything unsavory you wouldn’t want your most delicate parts exposed to, Governor. I can provide you his test results in digital or flimsi copy, if you wish.”

“Digital,” Armitage said. Never could be too safe. However, the slave seemed in good health. There was just one more item to check off the list.

Armitage swept the front of the slave’s loincloth to the side to bare him. He nearly drew in a shocked breath, but managed to contain himself. The slave’s cock hung long and thick between his legs, even to the point that it might have been intimidating to some. Not Armitage; he could see its potential; he could already feel the stretch and soreness he’d enjoy after taking it.

 

 

Unabashed, Armitage took him in hand and pushed the foreskin back to inspect him. The slave tensed under his hands, but didn’t object; he didn’t dare. Armitage gave him a few testing strokes, getting a feel for his weight and the suppleness of his skin. The response, Armitage was _very_ pleased to note, came quickly. Under his ministrations, the slave began to harden, filling out in his palm to an even greater thickness. He was heavy enough to stay low rather than standing to full attention, but Armitage could appreciate that. And the slave didn’t need to perform for him now; that could wait until Armitage got him alone.

Armitage glanced up at the slave’s face to gauge his reaction, which was blatantly self-satisfied and thankfully tinged with underlying desire. He was attracted to Armitage at least, which would make things easier when it came down to his role in the household. He was smiling close-lipped and, if Armitage wasn’t mistaken, he flexed his lower abdominal muscles to push more blood to his cock. It filled out even further, and Armitage nearly licked his lips. Instead, he moved his thumb to the slave’s tip, where fluid was already beading. He was messy; that was even better.

Armitage released his cock to take hold of his full testicles. They were heavy, but not overmuch, and he was neatly kept, if not totally hairless. The dark fuzz was soft against Armitage’s hand, and the slave’s belly drew in with the air through his nose as Armitage touched him. He massaged him carefully, pressing his middle finger back behind to press against the space between his testicles and ass. The slave’s nostrils flared and his cock jumped, lifting to half-hardness. A drop of fluid fell from his tip, breaking on the durasteel floor at his feet. They both looked down at it and then back up at each other. Armitage felt the distinct and insistent kick of arousal.

He withdrew his hand from the slave—reluctantly—and turned to the market master. “What’s the starting offer?”

The Chiss pulled up a holo display from his wrist chronometer. “Thirty-five thousand,” he said.

Armitage huffed. “Oh, I very much doubt that. Twenty.”

The slave’s face twitched with what Armitage guessed was displeasure. He thought highly of himself then. It wasn’t unreasonable; he was very impressive and clearly knew the effect his interest was having. Armitage’s own cock was stirring, very intrigued by this particular slave.

“Thirty at the least,” said the market master, recapturing Armitage’s attention. “This is an exquisite slave. He’s had experience in the finest households in the Outer Rim, and only nine and twenty years. Surely he’s no older than you are, Governor.”

Flattery, of course. Armitage was thirty-four. He raised his chin. “Even the most seasoned lay in this market isn’t worth thirty. Twenty-five.”

The Chiss shook his head forlornly. “Our wares are the finest in the galaxy, Governor. We sell only the best and for that we ask a fair price.”

Armitage pursed his lips, giving the slave’s cock another look. He was dripping still, full and inviting. “Twenty-eight,” Armitage said. “Final offer.” It wasn’t, but he had to take a stand. To be honest, he would have paid thirty-five.

“Twenty-eight,” said the Chiss. He flicked his fingers toward the Bith handler. “Take him to the governor’s ship. Make sure he’s secured.”

Armitage watched the slave be led off, appreciating his purposeful, proud strides and the swing of his cock against the loincloth’s thin fabric. He wasn’t a cowed and broken one, that was for certain. “Why such security with him?” Armitage said to the market master.

A thoughtful pause and then: “He can be...opinionated. We’ve held him in the markets for three weeks and he is not always easily managed. But certainly a man such as yourself can handle him easily.”

Armitage cocked a red eyebrow. “Yes, I should imagine so.” And at least he wouldn’t be bored. There was, maybe, nothing more tedious than a bedmate who didn’t have some will of his own. Armitage pulled up a credit transfer interface on his cronometer. “Arrange to have his tests sent to me. Your fee is paid.”

The Chiss bowed from the waist. “If you are at all displeased with his performance, Governor, you can return him to us for half your payment.”

“Only half?” Armitage asked, wry.

He got a sheepish, if knowing smile in return. “We are men of business, Governor.”

“ _You_ are,” he said. “But I doubt I’ll need to return him.” He thought quite pleasantly of the slave’s form. “He’ll be more than satisfactory.”

 

* * *

 

Armitage took his time returning to the ship, ensuring the he didn’t look too eager. It gave him time to survey the slave’s medical file. There was conspicuously no bill of sale that included his previous owners. Armitage could appreciate that kind of discretion. The hour also gave the slave time to acclimate to his new circumstances, which were not spare. Hux’s ship had been custom built for him as a teenager, an indulgence for his father’s for favored offspring. It wasn’t necessarily large, but the majority of the vessel was living quarters furnished lavishly. A broad bed was the centerpiece, along with a bathtub that used fresh water stored in large tanks in the lower belly of the ship. There was, at least, no shortage of water on rainy Arkanis.

The pilot was already aboard when Armitage arrived and Armitage gave the order for them to disembark. He could hear the engines firing up as he made his way into the living quarters. The slave, he found, was in the bedroom. There was a thin chain around his left ankle, binding him to the bed frame, and he was seated cross-legged on the floor. Armitage paused at the threshold to look him over, surprised to find such an imposing man sitting meekly, seemingly in meditation. However, he opened his eyes when he heard Armitage come into the cabin.

“Master.” His voice was rumbling and deep, sending a very pleasurable tingle down Armitage’s spine. He got more pleasing by the minute.

Armitage approached him in measured steps. “What are you called?”

“You can give me any name you want,” said the slave.

“No,” Armitage said firmly. He had no intention of foolishly renaming his slaves to suit his whims. Not even his self-indulgent father had done that. “I want _your_ name. What did your mother call you?”

The slave’s expression remained impassive, his incongruous features unmoving. “I don’t remember.” It didn’t ring true, but Armitage didn’t press. If this slave had been sold into the trade as a child, it was more than possible he didn’t recall his origins. This smacked of him simply not wanting to say, and yet Armitage let it lie.

“Then what did your last master call you?”

“He didn’t use my name.”

Annoyance flared in Armitage’s belly. He was accustomed to being answered directly and promptly when he asked a question. It was certainly expected of a slave; but he had been warned this one could be obstinate. “Is that because you didn’t give him one,” he asked, “as you seem to be denying me?”

The slave’s wide mouth quirked at one side, but he said, “Ren.”

That was simple enough; Armitage could accept it. “I’m Governor Hux,” he told Ren, “and you may call me that.” He got a frown in response. Armitage nearly admonished him. “Just the surname,” he continued. “Not always the title, unless we’re in company.”

“My other masters never took me anywhere ‘in company,’” Ren said.

That didn’t seem sensible, especially when he was such a devastating creature to look upon. Armitage said, “You were confined to a harem?”

Ren nodded.

“Well,” said Armitage, “you are, at present, my only slave and you’ll have quarters of your own in my household. You’ll be expected to make appearances at certain functions from time to time.”

Ren raised his heavy dark brows. “A kind of orgy, you mean?”

Armitage said hurriedly, “No. I do not share what’s mine.” If he wasn’t mistaken he recognized a flash of appreciation in Ren’s eyes. The kinds of orgies of food, drink, and sex his father had thrown were not his style in the least; he maintained the dignity and decorum of their name inside and outside of their home.

“Where are we going?” Ren said after a moment. He was still sitting unmoving on the floor, peering up at Armitage curiously.

Armitage needed a drink before he described his homeworld. It wasn’t the most desirable place for most people to live, especially those who weren’t used to frequent storms and almost ever-present gray cloud cover. He crossed the cabin to his liquor cabinet, opening it to reveal a variety of colorful bottles, each filled with pricey alcohol. Taking a tumbler from the secure rack, he selected a bottle and filled the glass. To Ren: “Care for something?”

“You don’t have to ply me to sleep with you,” Ren said, flat.

Armitage paused, tumbler halfway to his lips. “Is that a statement of interest?” he asked.

Ren sucked his teeth, but then said, “It’s just the truth. I have to do what you tell me to do, whatever that is. You own me, _Hux_.”

Armitage surveyed him critically, gauging his hostility. “You do, but before, when I touched you, you were getting hard. You are either incredibly good at performing on command, or you have a genuine interest in sleeping with me. Which is it?”

Ren’s laugh was cold. “You think I’m just dying to get on my knees and suck your cock, then.”

Displeasure flaring again, Armitage said, “Do I repulse you?”

“I’ve had worse,” Ren told him, playing at dismissiveness; but Armitage could read that was fussing unnecessarily.

“I’m sure,” said Armitage. “And what, if you don’t care to use your mouth, do you like to do?”

“I never said I didn’t like it,” was the quick reply.

Armitage fired back: “You just don’t want to suck _my_ cock?”

Ren frowned again, seemingly indecisive. Armitage resisted the urge to demand he answer. Eventually, he said, “It’s not the first thing I want to do.”

Armitage took a deep drink of the brandy he had poured. “Ah. Then what would you like to start with?”

“You’re really giving me the choice?”

Armitage said, “This is the first time we’ve spoken, and I know nothing more about you than your name, which took some convincing to get. I could certainly just dictate what you’ll do to me, but I was told you had your own opinions about things. If you wish to share them, you may.”

Ren slowly wet his lips, looking Armitage up and down without hiding it. “You’re skinny,” he said. “If you turn to the side, you’ll disappear.” Armitage wasn’t overly pleased with that assessment, but didn’t object—for now. Ren continued, “I bet I could lift you up and fuck you standing in the middle of this room.”

All the blood in Armitage’s gut dropped straight to his cock at the very mention of such an act. His reaction must have been plain in his face because Ren grinned. “Oh, I understand. That’s why you bought me. You’re not the first.”

Armitage snorted. “No, I’d imagine not.”

Turning about, Ren asked, “So, what do _you_ want? Other than to wrap your long legs around my hips and have me fuck you.”

Setting his tumbler down on the cabinet, Armitage crossed to where Ren was sitting and flicked his fingers to order him to his feet. He stood and Armitage wasted no time putting his hand under the sheer loincloth and gripping Ren’s cock. “This,” he said. “As deep and hard as you can give it.”

Ren’s smile returned, even more mischievous now. “That’s a lot.”

Armitage gave him a firm squeeze. “Good.”

“When?”

“In a little while,” Armitage said, letting go of him and taking a step back. “Let me finish my drink. Second offer: do you want something?”

“All right,” Ren said. “Whatever you have.”

Armitage poured a second glass of brandy and pressed it into Ren’s large hand. He took a tentative sip, the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed. “Good,” he said. “Not that I’ve been allowed much before.”

“Is that so?” Armitage asked. “Were you kept harshly?”

“Not really,” Ren replied, “but I wasn’t permitted ‘in company’ or to have anything as nice as my masters drank.” A pause. “Is it a custom on your planet to indulge slaves?”

Armitage raised his glass. “Ah, yes, you asked where we’re going. To Arkanis. Have you heard of it?”

Ren shook his head.

“I’m not surprised,” said Armitage. “It’s not a well-known place. I’m the governor of a province which used to house an Imperial officers’ academy. It’s mostly agricultural now, however, since the Empire fell. I have an estate, where we’ll spend most of our time, but sometimes I go into the city.”

“And you’d take a slave with you?”

Armitage gave him a one-sided smile. “A favored one.”

Ren’s brow knit. “You’ve had me less than two hours, and I haven’t even shown you what I can do. What if I’m a disappointment?”

“You’re only convincing me of your eagerness,” said Armitage, his own making itself known as desire in the pit of his stomach. “Are you so keen to fuck me?”

“Yes,” Ren said, catching him by surprise. “My last master was fat and old. You’re young and slender and so _red_. I’ve never seen anyone with your coloring before.”

Armitage had heard that in the past. “It’s not so common, you’re right. And I’m glad to hear that you find me appealing. It will certainly make your work less of a chore.”

“Sex is never a chore,” Ren told him. “Even if my master isn’t...appealing, I won’t embarrass myself by neglecting my duties.”

Armitage took a drink of his brandy, watching Ren over it. If he was being truthful, he would make for an ideal bed slave. Armitage was reluctant to believe everything he said directly, but his hardening cock had been earnest enough, before. “How many masters have you had?” Armitage asked.

Ren took a drink from his own glass, drawing attention to the brass cuffs that were still around his wrists. It was very possible to bind him in numerous ways. Armitage could think of few things he might like to try using restraints, but not today. He would, in all likelihood, remove the cuffs sooner rather than later. Ren wasn’t a prisoner in the crude sense; he was—or was intended to be, if he proved himself—a cherished possession.

“Four,” Ren replied.

“All men?” said Armitage.

Ren inclined his head.

“Was that a choice for you? A preference you already knew you had?”

“Yes,” Ren told him. “I was fifteen when I was sold into my first master’s harem. I knew myself well enough to go into men’s beds.”

Armitage nodded. As he drank more of his brandy, he watched trails of sugary liquor run down the sides of the tumbler. Ren was regarding him steadily still, drinking little. Armitage wondered if he didn’t care for it but didn’t want to say. However, he reasoned that Ren _would_ say something if he didn’t fancy it. The drink was starting to hum through Armitage’s veins, though not strongly enough to make him giddy. He didn’t want to let his guard down like that with Ren the first time, or even the next few times. There was a significant adjustment period to be expected.

Ren’s gaze went to Armitage’s glass and then to his own. In one long gulp, he drank it down. Armitage took the last of his, too, abandoning the tumbler and approaching Ren where he stood at the bedside. He reached out with his right hand and laid it against the sheer fabric over Ren’s pectoral. Taking some between his thumb and forefinger, he rubbed it, finding it slippery and soft to the touch. Carefully, he brushed his fingertips over Ren’s nipple under it and found that it pebbled up almost immediately.

“Responsive,” Armitage murmured. “Yet more interest?”

“Why does it matter to you so much that I’m attracted to you?” Ren asked, blunt. “I’ll do what you tell me regardless.”

Armitage sighed, withdrawing his hand. Ren was right, and had been trained apparently since he was a teenager to serve his masters dutifully, but Armitage still thought enough of himself that he wanted his partners to fuck him because they desired to and not because they were obligated. Perhaps that was counterintuitive to owning a pleasure slave—and yet Armitage felt his own interest wain thinking that Ren was just going through the motions.

However, he hid that and lied, “It doesn’t.”

Ren gave him a disbelieving look, but didn’t say anything counter. Rather, he took Armitage by the hand again and pressed his narrow palm to his chest. “I want to fuck you,” he said. “I want to show you you chose well in buying me. I won’t disappoint you.”

Armitage slid his hand down to Ren’s belly. It rose and fell as he breathed. “Get on the bed,” he ordered. “And touch yourself.”

Putting on a very deliberate display, Ren went to the edge of the mattress and climbed onto it on hands and knees, his haunches barely covered by the thin length of fabric over his buttocks. He crept to the head of the bed, lying down on his back and leaning against the pillows. Armitage saw with satisfaction that he filled up a great deal of the bed, keeping his long legs wide as he swept the loincloth aside and revealed himself.

Armitage’s mouth watered at the sight of his cock, which lay thick between his thighs. Even soft it was impressive, and Armitage wondered how much of it he could take in his mouth before he choked. That was for another time, however. “Are you waiting for something?” he said sharply as Ren continued to sit bare without laying hands on himself.

Ren gave him a sly smile before running his big hands down his body to his groin. Only then did he take hold of his cock and give it a first stroke. He didn’t take his eyes off of Armitage as he began to work himself to hardness, and Armitage didn’t struggle to hold his focus on him.

The length was extraordinary and as the blood continued to fill him rose up proudly to stand out from the neatly trimmed hair trailing down from his navel. Armitage was going to have to go slowly to take him, and even then he was considering whether he would physically be able to get every one of those inches inside himself. Not that it would stop him trying. Ren would easily have to use both of his hands to jerk his entire length, and Armitage’s would look small on him. His proportions were really just egregious—delightfully so.

 

 

“What now?” Ren asked. “Do you just plan to watch?”

“As tempting as that is,” said Armitage, “I’m not that self-sacrificing at present.”

Ren stroked his right hand up to the tip of his cock, where he smeared the fluid there around the head. “Then take off your fine clothes, Governor Hux, and come to me.”

Despite his attempts to keep cool, Armitage shuddered at that. He was weak for such a blatant invitation: just the kind of interest he wanted Ren to show. Maybe Ren could tell that and was feeding him what he wanted, but it didn’t matter just then.

Armitage began to undo the ivory buttons of his linen shirt, the smooth bone sliding easily through the buttonholes. He was keenly aware of his smaller size in comparison to Ren’s bulk, which had his cock twitching in his trousers. The pressure was simple to release as he unzipped the fly and allowed his erection to stand out against the more forgiving black satin of his undergarments. He noted Ren’s attention turning to him there. He wasn’t Ren’s size, but he had nothing to be ashamed of.

He had first been with a man when he was sixteen years old and still away at boarding school. Nudity was nothing out of the ordinary in that setting, but it was different to bare yourself with the intention of allowing them to touch you. When Armitage had felt another man’s hands on his cock for the first time, he knew his own wouldn’t be enough anymore. And the same went for penetration. Having someone inside him was an unmatched feeling. He was sensitive and responded well to both fingers and more. It had gotten to the point now that he didn’t even want to bother to masturbate if he couldn’t stimulate his prostate at the same time. Fortunately, it was rare he didn’t have the opportunity.

Armitage pushed his undergarments down his lean legs, the fabric making the hairs along them stand up. Ren watched him—all the while stroking his own cock—but a line of worry or annoyance or other concern appeared between his eyebrows as his gaze settled between Armitage’s legs.

“What?” Armitage snapped, irked rather than self-conscious.

Ren actually sounded a sight disappointed as he replied, “You shave. I wanted to see if the rest of your hair was red.”

Armitage’s frustration faded, and he laughed. “It is, but I prefer to keep it trimmed.”

“There’s trimming,” said Ren, “and then there’s shaving.” He touched the neat dark hair around the base of his cock. “Do you want me to be bare, too?”

“Not necessarily,” Armitage told him. “If you like having some hair, you can leave it. I just won’t be using any wax on you.”

Ren grinned. “If you want to, I’ll shave.” He patted the mattress beside him. “Come.”

Armitage, who had yet to remove his shirt all the way, shrugged it over his shoulders and dropped it to the floor behind him. He tugged his socks off and, giving his cock one long stroke that put him at ease, got into bed.

Ren didn’t touch him immediately, instead continuing to hold his own erection, spreading more of the fluid around himself. There was a great deal more than Armitage himself produced, and he wondered how it tasted.

_Another time_.

“Did you prepare yourself?” Ren asked as Armitage sat on his heels beside him. “Or will you need some assistance?”

Armitage gave him a sidelong look. “I haven’t prepared overmuch. I didn’t know that I would actually find a slave today after all. But I’m accustomed to this and quite good at relaxing.”

Ren squeezed the thick base of his cock, making the head flare. “Not enough for this.”

It was probably more than true, even if Armitage liked to believe he could take just about anything. He hadn’t stretched himself this morning or put in a plug, and even if he had, Ren was far longer, if not fuller than any of the toys he currently owned. Conceding that Ren was right, Armitage reached for the bedside table, where he had already set out a sizable bottle of oil in a warmer. As he took it out, he poured a fair bit onto his fingers, slicking them.

“You do it yourself?” Ren said.

“Generally,” Armitage replied. “I know myself best.”

Ren ventured to lay a hand on his folded knee, running his palm up to the crease of his thigh. “But it’s my task to know you even better than that.”

A pleasurable tremor ran down Armitage’s spine. No lover had ever laid that bold a claim on him, and he hadn’t realized how much he wanted them to. He glanced at Ren’s hand on his leg: long, full fingers with knuckles that stood out. It was easy to imagine those fingers inside him, maybe even pressing and rubbing in the places where Armitage was most sensitive.

Ren was observant; he saw Armitage look and flexed those fine fingers. “I can massage you, if you like that.” He licked his full lower lip. “I think you would, if you never have before.”

“I have,” said Armitage. “And I do.”

“Then let me,” Ren said, rising up to sit. He slid his hand around to Armitage’s left buttock and then trailed his fingertips to the cleft, which he traced with intention.

Armitage’s instinct was to cant his hips back in invitation, offering his ass for Ren to slide his big fingers into, but he resisted. “End of the bed,” he ordered.

Ren gave him an inquiring lift of his eyebrows, but did as he was told and went to kneel at the foot of the bed, the chain around his ankle rattling. Armitage moved some of the pillows to give himself more space and dropped onto his left forearm while he put his slick fingers around behind him and circled the forefinger around his hole. He was on full display for Ren, his ass in the air and his face close to the mattress. He teased himself for a few more seconds before pushing the first finger inside.

Though he knew well how to relax into the sensation of being penetrated, he made a point of clenching his muscles around his forefinger, forcing himself to try harder to push it deeper. Even the lightest pass of his prostate had him shivering, which he was certain Ren could see. No doubt his new slave was making all kinds of calculations about what Armitage liked, if he was as good as he said he was going to be.

Armitage fucked himself steadily with that one finger, pressing down where he liked it, but soon enough he was pulling it out to insert a second. It was barely filling to him by this point in his life, but he made a bit of a show of it, making a soft, satisfied sound as he breached his hole again. He felt the mattress shift as Ren moved, and just a moment later, his large hands were on Armitage’s buttocks, kneading the muscles.

“Did I say you could touch?” Armitage said, even if there wasn’t genuine bite to it.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t,” Ren countered. “But you want me to, or you wouldn’t be where you are. You could have lain on your back or told me to stay next to you, but you’re right where I can touch you. That was deliberate.”

“I chose this position so you could see,” said Armitage, “but I suppose you can touch, too.” He felt Ren trail his fingertips down the cleft of his ass to where his fingers were inside. There, he stopped, but he applied some pressure, testing the give of Armitage's rim; maybe it would accept his finger, too. Armitage knew it would—easily. “Go on,” he said.

Ren pressed in until his finger was in to the first knuckle. Armitage could feel it over top of his own and just on the slippery inside of his hole. Ren moved in more, drizzling some oil down Armitage’s cleft as he did. It would be a mess, Armitage was sure, but he decidedly didn’t mind. The finger was eased deeper, until it passed the ends of Armitage’s fingers inside him. Ren rubbed softly there, even if it wasn’t a pleasure point.

“Move in and out,” Ren said. “Slowly.”

Armitage wasn’t sure what he was about, but began to draw his fingers out of himself. As he did, Ren cleverly guided his two over top of his own, so that Ren’s pointer finger could be crooked down to catch Armitage’s prostate. He wasted no time in doing so, either. The air left Armitage’s lungs in the form of a long moan, his whole lower body lighting up with tingles.

“I can feel you shaking,” said Ren, clearly satisfied. “Could you come from this alone?”

“I have in the past,” Armitage replied. He had very fond memories of coming untouched, even if most of them had been in his teens and twenties, when he still had a hair-trigger reaction time. Not to say his thirties hadn’t proved to be very exciting sexually, but those previous years had brought particularly erotic experiences. Perhaps he could recreate them with Ren, but, he said, “Not today. I want your cock in me.”

Ren rubbed his finger insistently, bringing Armitage a startlingly intense sensation. The words only amplified that: “Of course, Master.”

He inserted a second long finger so that they were both deep in Armitage’s ass, wasting no time in stretching him open. Ren rubbed his rim, where he was tightest, encouraging the muscles to let go of their usual tension. Armitage trembled under the attention, relishing fucking himself with his own fingers while Ren served him with his. They went well together: filling and exploring his from the inside.

“I’m ready,” Armitage said at last. “As I’m going to be.”

Ren stroked a hand down the length of his spine to his sacrum, strangely affectionate for someone he barely knew. “Do you want to start like this?”

“Yes.” Armitage lowered his voice to a purr: “And I expect just what you promised: hard and deep. I’ll tell you if you need to do anything different.”

“All right,” said Ren. “Take a deep breath.”

First, the lengths of Ren’s loincloth landed on the bed next to them, discarded, and then Armitage felt more oil along his cleft. After came the blunt head of Ren’s cock against his hole, pressure increasing as Ren began to push himself inside. Armitage was ready to tell him not to patronize him by telling him to breathe and relax and whatever else, but as soon as Armitage felt the girth of him stretching his hole wide, he did draw in air and let it out in a gust.

Ren slid in and in and in, seemingly without end. He’d taken big cocks before, but nothing quite this impressive. He breathed again, stunned as Ren pushed yet another few inches. Armitage was so full already, and found himself groaning into it. As Ren pressed even deeper, he felt his stomach distend with Ren’s length. He hoped for punishing strokes, and his insides were going to get it if this kept up. At last, however, Ren’s groin touched his buttocks; he was fully seated.

“Is that what you needed?” Ren asked.

Armitage didn’t miss the word choice: not wanted— _needed_. He wasn’t so sure he liked the intimacy of that, and played it off as best he could with ten inches of cock up his ass: “Fuck me and I’ll decide then.”

He got a chuckle in reply as Ren’s firm hands came to his hips. At the same time, Ren pushed him away and pulled himself back. His cock dragged inside of Armitage, eliciting another deep moan, but then he was slamming back in. Armitage cried out in surprise, Ren’s tip hitting him so deeply he was sure it showed in his lower belly. _That_ was everything he had craved.

“More,” Armitage said.

Ren wasn’t hesitant; he pulled out and then drove back in in fast, pounding thrusts. He held Armitage firmly, knocking the air out of him in needy grunts. Ren himself was silent; the only sounds were Armitage’s and the slap of their skin coming together with each jerk of Ren’s hips.

Armitage’s mind went all but blank, focused wholly on the pleasure of being taken without restraint. He pressed his face into the mattress, his mouth open and watering. His cock stood out hard between his legs, bouncing as Ren drove into him. It was tempting to touch himself, but he wanted to hold back and enjoy this without rushing to a climax. He loved to wait and let it build. The powerful slide of Ren set him alight, even with just passing brushes of his prostate. He made a shamefully debauched sound when Ren took him by the back of the neck and shoved him harder down onto the bed.

 

 

Sweat broke out on Armitage’s skin and he fisted his hands, Ren’s thrusts so strong that it was just this side of too much. But Armitage didn’t want him to stop; it was a point of pride to take all of him now, and he couldn’t give in. He let Ren continue to pound him, losing himself so much that there was a damp patch on the sheets from his saliva. His neatly parted hair was already disheveled and they had barely gotten started.

Ren wasn’t making a single sound, just servicing Armitage as he had been directed. It was what was expected of a slave, but Armitage couldn’t help but wonder if he was as caught up in the act as Armitage was. Likely not; this was his duty and not something he did for pleasure alone. Perhaps he was just concentrating, but Armitage liked to imagine his brown eyes closed and mouth hanging open as he fucked him. It was, he decided, time to see his face.

“Out,” Armitage ordered.

He was obeyed directly, Ren pulling his cock out of him and drawing back. The emptiness his absence left was considerable; but it wouldn’t be for long. Armitage managed to get himself turned around and onto his back without kicking Ren, who was sitting on his heels at the end of the bed, waiting for his next instruction. Armitage lay down, peering up at him.

“Come here,” Armitage said. “Like this.”

Ren ran his hands up Armitage’s legs and sides, once again touching without permission. _Willful thing._ At his shoulders, Ren released him, taking one of the full pillows with its tassels at the corners and bringing it down to his hips. “Up,” Ren said. “It’ll be a better angle if you put this under you. And put your head on the pillows behind you.”

Armitage raised his eyebrows. “Do you presume to know how I like it?”

“I know how it feels good,” Ren said. “Trust me.”

“I don’t know you,” said Armitage, cagey. He had been with strangers many times in the past, both at city clubs exclusively for that purpose and at the seedier cantinas where he sometimes went to escape his family legacy, but trust was something he didn’t give easily—or sometimes at all.

He was still considering that fact when Ren leaned down and licked a long stripe up Armitage’s hard cock. Armitage outright gasped, shocked. Ren said, “Trust me to serve you, Master.” His gaze was dark from where he was poised at Armitage’s groin.

Armitage gave in and raised his hips for Ren to put the pillow under them. He stuffed two others behind his head, bringing his body in a kind of soft curve up toward Ren. “Like this?” he asked.

“Just like that,” Ren replied. Taking his cock in hand again, he lined himself up with Armitage’s entrance and pushed slowly into him. It was exquisite. A withdrawal and then Ren hit him hard again, this time thrusting against his most sensitive place with the head of his cock on the way in.

“Oh, _stars_!” Armitage cried, bringing his arms up to wrap around Ren’s back and pull him down against his chest.

Ren lowered his head to Armitage’s shoulder, but guided his legs up and up until Armitage was nearly folded in half. “Flexible,” Ren murmured into his neck.

Armitage snorted. “Yes, now fuck me with all you have.”

 

 

The next thrust dragged over his prostate, electricity exploding in Armitage’s lower half. He clutched at Ren; his fingernails dug into his shoulders. Ren’s soft lips moved against his neck, but he didn’t dare suck or bite him—mark him in any way. That was a well-trained slave. It wasn’t acceptable to parade around wearing some bed boy’s bruises like clumsy teenagers. And it was a possessiveness no slave was permitted. In return Armitage didn’t mark his lovers. He didn’t need Ren’s smooth skin broken to know he could claim him whenever he wanted to.

Armitage had never thrown that word around so easily before, but neither had he ever _owned_ one of his lovers. He had hired a few in his day—most experts in certain aspects of sex that he couldn’t expect an average man he might meet to perform—but he’d not purchased the whole person. There were places in the galaxy where slavery was forbidden, and with good reason: laborers had been abused or kept in squalor. However, slaves were respected on Arkanis and only those with the resources to support them in comfort kept any. True, Ren now belonged completely to Armitage, but he wouldn’t suffer for it. To think that his previous master didn’t use his name; Armitage couldn’t imagine doing something so callous.

Ren was far from a delicate flower to be coddled, as was evident from his considerable weight bearing down on Armitage as he drove his cock into him. He was holding himself up on his knees, his toes dug firmly into the duvet to ground him and allow him the right leverage to relentlessly fuck Armitage. He was breathing heavily now, moist against Armitage’s shoulder. There was a musky scent to him, even if he had clearly been bathed in something tinged with lavender, and it filled Armitage’s nose as his hair fell by his face. That dark hair was soft as Armitage took a fistful of it and held tight. To his gratification, Ren groaned in approval.

He took hold of Armitage’s shoulders, the cuffs around his wrists cool on his heated skin. Armitage was sure he was flushed a mottled red across his chest—unflattering but unavoidable. There were marks on Ren from Armitage’s fingernails, which would fortunately fade soon, but they sent a carnal rush through him.

_Mine_ , he thought. And Ren was.

“I want to touch my cock,” Armitage said between hard thrusts. “Will you—”

He didn’t need to say more. Ren pushed back up onto his knees, adjusting the pillow to keep his cock angled well inside of Armitage. He guided Armitage’s legs down around him, almost massaging his quadriceps. “Do you want me to do it for you?” he asked.

Armitage gave a curt jerk of his head. “Keep going. Just...keep going.”

Ren held him by the hips again, tipping him up to hit _exactly_ the right place. Armitage pinched his eyes shut and let out a guttural grunt of pleasure. When he touched his cock, the intensity doubled. He had leaked onto his belly as Ren had massaged his prostate, and he used some of the fluid to ease his strokes. He couldn’t be bothered with oil just now; it was more critical to just keep his hand flying over his length, even if mostly dry.

The view from his back was an impressive one: Ren’s wide chest still covered with that flimsy silk, which crossed his shoulders by the the collar around his neck. The skin, Armitage saw, was just slightly reddened—irritated. That wouldn’t do; he’d have to be rid of those accoutrements as soon as they were finished. He would _not_ be damaged. Armitage could see Ren’s cock slipping in and out of him, too, and it came like a blow to the gut. His body could take so much; he was fascinated by watching for a few moments.

Ren’s gaze was on the place where they were joined as well. His lips were parted ever so slightly and he was raptly appreciating every inch of his cock pressing into Armitage’s hole. It seemed as if he might have wanted to pause to appreciate it, but he didn’t; he continued to thrust rigorously, his testicles landing solidly against Armitage with each push. It was base and primal and utterly captivating.

Pleasure was building low in Armitage’s gut as Ren continued to stimulate his prostate while Armitage jerked himself with abandon. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this wound up, so lost in the feeling of being all but split open on someone’s cock. Ren had reduced him to wordless moans, when he could manage to make any sound at all. His free hand was fisted in the bedsheets, nearly tearing them up as he fought to control the spasms in his body. It occurred to him quite suddenly that he didn’t have to control them at all; he could let go and allow the climax to wash away everything but the sensation. As soon as he did, he was lost.

The intensity brought out a final, desperate cry, which, only after it had already left his mouth, did he realize was “Ren!” His back bowed up from the mattress, his toes curling in ecstasy as he spattered his belly and chest with his spend. A hot drop even reached his chin. It was by far the most powerful orgasm he’d had in recent memory—not that his mind was working at all just then; he was totally consumed by the aftershocks.

He was startled back to consciousness only when Ren hoisted him by the waist up from his back and into his lap. Amazingly, he did it with his cock still buried deep in Armitage’s ass. It brought their chests tight together, smearing the spend between them messily. Armitage had to put his arms around Ren’s neck to steady himself, but he slid down until he was fully impaled again.

He cracked his eyes open to take Ren in. His were shining with earnest desire, and were trained on Armitage’s chin. Quick as a viper, but far softer, Ren licked the drop of sticky spend from it, and then he was kissing him.

 

 

A kiss was bordering on too personal for any relations with a slave, but Armitage found that he didn’t want to resist the press of Ren’s lips, his strong and warm tongue sliding into his mouth. Armitage opened for him, taking him in as willingly as he had his cock. Ren was sitting on his heels and upright, holding Armitage firmly and guiding him by the waist. Armitage rode him steadily.

He could feel the twitching muscles of Ren’s chest against his and, moving his hands down, pressed his palms to the pectorals, his thumbs just over Ren’s still-covered nipples. Oh, that wouldn’t do. The laughable silk covering was simple enough to push up and away, baring him for Armitage to take. Careful not to break his pace in rising and falling on Ren’s cock, he took one of his nipples into his mouth and sucked. Ren groaned in reply, his grip at Armitage’s middle tightening.

Armitage suckled him, pinching the nipple with his teeth and then running the flat of his tongue over it. Ren seemed to approve, so he moved to the other side, shoving the silk out of the way. It was caught up around Ren’s neck, maybe choking him, but if he wasn’t protesting, Armitage wouldn’t stop. He lapped at Ren’s chest, fully intending to give him pleasure.

He was still diligently paying the nipple attention when Ren said, “I want to come inside you.”

That, Armitage knew, was a step too far. He had never let a lover spend themselves in his ass before, and he was not about to start with a slave he’d been with one time—no matter how good he had proven himself to be. “No,” he said, lifting his head from Ren’s chest. “You’ll tell me when you’re close.”

Ren pressed his kiss-reddened lips together, but said between ground teeth, “Then you’d better let me go.”

While he wasn’t inclined to draw Ren from his body, Armitage forced himself to do it. He dropped—empty and open—down against Ren’s thighs, allowing him to get his cock between them. With one arm still tight around Armitage, Ren stroked himself with the other. He was sheer temptation as he threw back his head to press his Adam’s apple against the collar at his throat. The strong lines of his neck led to such a fine jaw, strong chin jutting out as he opened his mouth to moan.

Armitage slipped his fingers under the silk still stretched taut across Ren’s back, holding him there and ducking in to kiss his exposed skin. He could feel the frantic movement of Ren’s hand over his cock and the vibrations of a deep growl as he climaxed.

Hot spend spurted up across Armitage’s belly and chest: far, far more than he was accustomed to. Right away, the streaks began to drip down his skin, leaving viscous trails quickly cooling. He should have been disgusted—slaves were not to be so uncaring of their own release that they made messes of their masters—and yet his thoughts turned to how they had both spent themselves on him, and in some way that bound them together. Spurred by that, Armitage took Ren by the back of the head and kissed him again: once, hard.

Ren’s cock, when released, hit Armitage’s belly, smearing the fluid there. Armitage shuddered, though not from the depravity of it. He blinked at Ren, who was still spiraling down from his orgasm. He had control of himself, however, and was gently petting Armitage’s back. He was the first to initiate the move down to the mattress, guiding Armitage to lie with his head on the pillows. He himself fell onto his front with less grace, jostling the bed. His head was turned to face Armitage, but his eyes were tightly closed. He looked as slackened as Armitage felt.

 

 

They were both sweat-damp and catching their breath, but Armitage’s front was besmirched with their leavings—mostly Ren’s, if he was being truthful. He hadn’t been so thoroughly debauched in years, and his ass was already starting to grow sore from rough use. He didn’t for a moment regret it. His purchase had been a very, very good one and he could only imagine how he might have Ren serve him again in the future. For now, however, Armitage could hardly move to do anything more than recover.

He peered surreptitiously to the side, taking Ren in. His back was wide and spotted with moles and his ribs expanded as he breathed. His face was half-hidden in the pillows, his hair a wash of brown-black away from it. If Armitage didn’t know better he would have thought he was already asleep. Unncessarily tentative, Armitage reached a hand out to stroke along his spine, feeling where it was knobby near his neck and smoothly curving at the small of his back. He slipped one finger into the cleft of his ass shallowly.

“Ready for something else already?” Ren murmured. He had opened his eyes and was looking at Armitage, inquisitive. “I can be open in a minute or two.”

“No, no,” said Armitage, withdrawing his finger. “I don’t think I could stand up just now, let alone find the energy to fuck you.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “But the thought does you credit.”

Ren huffed a little laugh. “I’m at your service, Master.”

Armitage glanced toward the bathtub, where he had left all of his towels. “Then perhaps you’d fetch me something to clean up with. You made quite the mess of me.”

The gratified smile he got in return both charmed and annoyed him. “We can use this,” Ren said, tugging at the knot in his flimsy top. It had looked complicated to remove, but turned out to be simple enough. Ren unwound it and, with practiced hands, wiped the spend from Armitage’s chest and stomach. He tossed the silk aside and palmed his way down from Armitage’s breastbone to his navel. “Did I please you?” he asked.

“Is that in question?” Armitage said.

“Only to hear you say it,” said Ren. “If I need to do something differently then I want to know it. If I don’t satisfy you, what’s the point in owning me?”

Armitage sat up some on his elbows, surveying Ren. “Are you so quick to assume you didn’t perform well? That seems against your nature.”

Ren expression was wry. “What do you know of my nature?”

“Maybe nothing,” said Armitage, “but you have a measure of personal pride, don’t you? You _know_ you’re a good lover; why would you suggest right off that you weren’t satisfactory?”

He sobered some, his gaze moving down Armitage’s body, where his hand still rested—again too familiar but something Armitage wasn’t going to chastise him for; the weight was oddly comforting. Ren said, “Some of my masters were easy to please. I didn’t have to do much more than plow them and leave. But you… You want something more.”

Armitage tensed. This arrangement wasn’t supposed to be an intimate one; that implication was, which should have been unsuitable. Armitage had bought a slave for the status—the convenient sex, too, but mostly because it was expected of him. He could find lovers amongst the men of his class if he wanted them; he wasn’t a lump of an old man who couldn’t get anything but for what he took from a slave. Still, he couldn’t allow any kind of genuine connection to form with a bed slave. That just wasn’t done.

“Well,” he said, “I won’t just have you fuck me and then tell you to get out. You may go if you wish to.” Ren eyed the bathtub and Armitage understood. He nodded toward it. “The faucets are easy to use. Not too hot.”

As if suddenly revived, Ren rolled off of the bed and onto his feet. However, he realized halfway to the bath that the chain around his ankle only allowed him so far. He stopped and glanced back at Armitage, the question plain in his face.

Armitage rose from the bed as well and went to retrieve the small velvet bag the market master had given him after Ren had been led away. Inside was a durasteel key good for all the locks on Ren’s person. Armitage took it out and went to Ren’s side. First, he put the key into the lock at the back of the collar. It turned with a heavy _click_ and the two sides fell open. The skin, as Armitage had seen before, was tender. He touched it lightly. “I have salve for this.”

“It’ll fade,” said Ren.

Armitage turned to the cuffs at his wrists then. He removed them both and then went to stoop to unlock the manacles at his ankles. Ren stopped him.

“You don’t kneel for me,” he said, holding out his hand for the key.

Armitage hadn’t thought of that, even if it was true. He put the key into Ren’s palm and stood upright as Ren crouched to remove the manacles. The chain relaxed and rattled against the cabin floor. When Ren rose again, he was completely bare and truly stunning. Armitage gestured toward the tub. Ren went ahead of him, but he followed only a pace behind, watching as Ren turned on the faucets. Clear fresh water poured into the tub.

“Have you had a bath before?” Armitage asked.

“I have, but not in a tub this big.” He touched Armitage’s hip. “You’ll come in with me, won’t you?”

Armitage nodded. “I’m filthy, so yes.”

Ren grinned up at him from where he was perched on the side of the tub. “That’s barely scratching the surface of how filthy we can get together. Have you ever fucked on a forest floor?”

“Stars, no,” said Armitage, “and I don’t plan on it. Arkanis’s forests are damp and cold. That’s the last place I’d like to roll around naked.”

“The point is to keep each other warm,” Ren said, still smiling.

Armitage scoffed. “We’ll be keeping to a comfortable bed.”

The water filled the tub quickly and Ren was quick to notice the scented soaps he could mix into it. He chose something with lemongrass, the scent of which filled the cabin. When there was enough water to submerge oneself in, Ren held out his hand to help Armitage into the tub. He stepped over the edge and sank down into the water, sighing happily. Ren followed, taking up the place behind him and, when he was settled, wrapping his long arms around Armitage’s waist and pulling him to recline against his chest.

“How are we supposed to wash like this?” Armitage said testily.

“Lazily,” Ren replied. He took a sponge from a nearby rack and dipped it into the soapy water. In no particular rush, he brought it to Armitage’s chest and began to make delicate circles over his skin. Despite himself, he relaxed into it. Ren was quiet for a time, but then asked, “What’s your estate like on Arkanis?”

“Big,” said Armitage. “My father expanded much of it during his life to include two more wings for guests and a grand ballroom.”

Ren brushed the sponge over Armitage’s neck. “Do you like to dance?”

“Not particularly.”

“I can’t. I never learned.”

Armitage hummed. “I can’t see the place where a slave would have to attend a ball, so I suppose that’s sensible. You have...other talents you spent time cultivating.”

Ren spoke into his ear: “You never answered me before when I asked if I pleased you. Will you tell me now?”

“If you need to be told so badly, then yes,” Armitage said. “It was excellent.” He didn’t want to overdo it and tell him just _how_ mindless with pleasure he’d been, but perhaps that would be clear enough from the next time they slept together.

“Good,” said Ren, resuming his scrubbing.

Armitage resisted to urge to press for more information, perhaps to know if Ren had enjoyed himself, too. He spoke more of the estate instead: “My rooms are in the north wing, where most of the household resides. My resident advisers live in the south wing. You’ll have your place nearer to mine than to theirs.”

“You don’t share what’s yours,” Ren said.

“Exactly,” Armitage assured him. “You won’t be passed around, if you were concerned about it.”

“I would have done what I was told, Master.”

Armitage threw a look over his shoulder at him. “You’ll have only to fuck me. The rest of your time is yours. Do you have other things you like to do? Reading? Do you play music?”

“I do,” said Ren. “The mandolin.”

“How quaint,” Armitage said. “And do you sing, too?”

“When it’s asked of me.”

Armitage rested his hands on Ren’s thighs under the water. “I think I’d like to hear that.”

Ren said, “Anything you want, Master.”

They finished washing up but kept their hair dry. Armitage used the sponge on Ren in kind, but they didn’t talk overmuch as they cleaned each other. The touch and their measuring gazes were enough to convey that they were still uncertain about each other, even if they had just done one of most intimate things two people could.

Ren pulled the drain as Armitage got out of the tub and dried himself. He was growing tired and longed for good sleep. Arrangements had been made in the crew quarters for Ren to sleep, though they were not as lavish as his rooms as the estate would be.

“Do you have any clothes to put on?” Armitage asked as he went to his wardrobe to find something to sleep in.

“That depends on what your wish is,” Ren replied. “Some of my masters insisted I was always naked when I was in their rooms.”

Armitage paused, holding a shirt. “Did they?” He could appreciate that. “Well, since your sleeping quarters are not in this cabin tonight, you might want to dress.”

Ren shrugged. “I only have what I was purchased in.”

“I see,” said Armitage. “I don’t think anything I have will fit you, but perhaps a robe…” He rummaged around in the wardrobe until he produced a black, calf-length dressing gown, which he held out to Ren.

“I’d like to sleep here,” Ren said as he took it.

Armitage raised his brows. “Surely not in my bed. That’s—”

“No. On the floor.”

There was no soft carpet on the cabin floor, only cool durasteel. It was surely uncomfortable.

“Why would you want that instead of a bunk?” Armitage asked.

Ren held the robe in front of himself, hiding his lower body. “I’m not part of your crew.”

That much was true, and slaves generally were kept closer than servants. Armitage thought it might be strange to have him curled up on the floor like one of his father’s old lothcats, but he wasn’t in a place to refuse.

“Very well,” he said. “There are some spare blankets in the cabinet there.” He pointed and Ren went to pull out one blanket to put on the durasteel and the other presumably to cover himself with. Armitage pulled three extra pillows from his bed to offer.

Ren built himself a kind of nest to the right of the bed, but waited until he had Armitage’s permission to actually lie down. Armitage himself crawled into his large bed, peeling back the duvet to find comfort. He ordered the illuminators down when they were both settled.

Lying on his back, he listened to the quiet hum of the ship’s engines. He hadn’t slept with anyone else in the room since he was in the nursery and he was very conscious of Ren’s presence. Perhaps that was more broadly applicable, too, for now he would be a significant part of Armitage’s life, both public and private.

“Ren,” he said, breaking the long silence.

“Yes, Master?”

“Goodnight.”

A pause and then: “Rest well, Hux.”

When Armitage closed his eyes, he was able to.

**Author's Note:**

> Gefionne: [[twitter]](https://twitter.com/Gefionnes) [[tumblr]](https://gefionne.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Storm is Passing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050189) by [Pangaea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pangaea/pseuds/Pangaea)
  * [The Fur Rug](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21937012) by [Pangaea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pangaea/pseuds/Pangaea)




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